Trust for Sunday Scribblings

The sun was busy
making sharp shadows
on the early evening
mountains

when Gary suggested
we fly to Martha’s Vineyard
for a couple nights
of R&R.

I packed quickly
and we were airborne
in an hour, he piloting,
me awed

by the Monoply houses,
Hot Wheels vehicles,
and ant people
below.

Suddenly, with about
a half hour to go,
the land disappeared
into gauze

and we were alone,
hanging like a falling leaf
in the middle
of the foggy sky.

I suggested we turn around
but Gary said not to worry;
he knew what to do.
I freaked, anyway.

To calm me down,
he gave me the job
of looking out
for the lights

of the airport.
There was just the sound
of the engine,
and the thick gray

swirling around us.
I imagined us crashing
into the ocean or
the land.

Gray, gray, gray
then…ghostly glows.
Lights! We were right
on course.

We landed. They closed
the airport. Since then
I’ve flown miles
of skies

with him, through storms
through blue, through night.
Trust looks like a leaf
landing gently

and safely
onto the soft
floor
of the earth.